Therapy For Two
by SamBon
Summary: Arthur and Francis broke up after college, now Arthur is a therapist and Francis is his client. UKFr/FrUk, multi-chapter, probably sucks.
1. Chapter 1

the girl is supposed to be Hungary (Elizaveta)... I wrote this super quick at like 3am on a school night and I self-beta so all my stories suck since I have a bad habit of writing like im doing an essay :') this chapter is super short, like, only a page, but the other chapters will be longer (I swear...)

5 years ago today, if you had asked Arthur how his life was, he would without hesitation say it was great. He'd moved out of his parents house when he was 20, was studying physcology and philosophy in the college of his first choice, and he was working at a Chinese restaurant with a pay high enough to live comfortably in an apartment in Norfolk.

And today, if you asked Arthur how his life was now...well, of course he would say he was good, ever the gentlemen, working steadily as a therapist, helping people and getting food on the table while doing it.

Except Arthur wasn't good. Don't get him wrong, he was thankful for what he had, understood there was people in worse situations, but sometimes he just got...lonely. He had friends, Matthew and Kiku and (sometimes) Antonio, but none of them could give him the attention nor the affection he yearned for.

He was 25 years old and his last steady relationship had ended when he was 21 with some happy-go-lucky, over-confident Frenchmen named Francis. The breakup had involved 2 broken chairs, a lot of crying (mostly on Arthur's side), a third degree burn on both parties and Francis leaving with a chunk of hair cut off. And even the way the fight had started was frivolous, just because Arthur was pissed that Francis never told him that he was moving back to France right after college. Arthur was angry that Francis had never taken the relationship seriously if he intended to leave Arthur all alone after college.

The relationship had ended so badly that Arthur refused to date anyone for a whole year. And when he was finally ready to date anyone, he was already out of college and it became a lot harder to find romantic partners, especially gay ones (admittedly, it was easier in college because almost everyone in college was experimenting with sexuality, as well as drugs) who could deal with a partner who had a crippling fear of abandonment.

So, he isolated himself from romance entirely, and concentrated on his work.

Now... now he was sitting in his office in between appointments doing nothing in particular, mostly waiting for something to happen. After about 20 minutes of computer solitaire and seeing how many paperclips he could link together at a time, his phone rang.

"Dr. Kirkland speaking," he replied automatically, shuffling some paperclips with his free hand.

"Um, hello," answered a girls voice, a strong eastern European accent that could even be heard over the phone. "I'd like to make an appointment for a friend?"

"Of course," he replied, fumbling for a piece of paper and a pen, "what's the name?"

"Bonnefoy," she replied quickly.

"Bonnefoy," he repeated slightly slower and quieter as he wrote it, "Uh, I need their age, gender, sexual orientation and any previously diagnosed mental illnesses. Normally you would write this on a form, but since you're making the appointment over the phone, I'll just do it for you." He clicked his pen and held the phone to his ear with his shoulder so to write easier.

"He's 25, cis male," their was a pause and a weak chatter like she was sitting next to said man she was making an appointment for. "Pansexual, and he's been previously diagnosed with bipolar type 2," she replied slowly, uncertainty in her voice.

"...type 2..." he mumbled as he wrote it. "Is he taking medication for that?"

"Yes."

"Okay, uhh," he twirled his chair around and leaned closer to the wall to read his schedule. "Is tomorrow at 11am good for you," he stuttered for a moment before correcting himself "err, him?"

"Umm, hold on," she said unsteadily. The weak chatter continued for a moment. "Yes, yeah, that's good! Thank you!"

"No problem, uh, bye," he said lamely, hanging the phone up quickly.

He glanced at the clock, 4:10. His next client would be here any minute, he realized, and quickly shuffled to prepare himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chey is seychelles, Marianne is nyo!france, and this takes place in 2008, which is why theyre talking about the office, but theyre also talking about it because I like to channel my weird interests onto my favorite characters. also I think I just set a world record for most use of the words awkward, uncomfortable and fuck in one chapter. **

Arthur looked down at wrist, momentarily taking his eyes off the road: 10:56am.

"Fuck," he whispered angrily to himself, gently banging his palm on the steering wheel. He wasn't just late to work, now he was going to be late for an actual appointment, which wasn't just leaving a bad reputation to his client, it was also awkward as hell. Walking in on a patient who was already calmly waiting made it 10 times harder to get the session rolling.

He quickly parked his car, glancing at his watch again: 11:10. "Fucking shit, fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered, almost running inside.

Arthur was greeted by bright lights and clean tiled floors. He leaned on the front desk, almost looking over and onto it.

"Hi, Chey," he said quickly, tapping his foot as he spoke. "Is Bonnefoy in my office yet?" he whispered, so none of the people currently sitting a few feet away in soft chairs against the wall waiting for their own appointments could hear.

Said woman looked up from her desk, concentrated face quickly turning into a wide smile upon seeing Arthur. "Nope!" she said sweetly, "actually," her voice quickly became a whisper and she cupped her hand not holding a pen around her thick lips, "don't look, but he's sitting over there," she gestured her hand behind Arthur, where the waiting clients were sitting. "I told him not to go in yet, because you're running late." Her secretive expression became a coy smile, and she giggled gently, still whispering, "by the way, he's super cute, and his file says he's not straight!" she finally laughed, leaning back in her chair and covering her mouth with her hands.

Arthur coughed uncomfortably into a fist, standing up straight now. "Just send him into my office once I get in, okay?" he mumbled, face slightly red.

Chey leaned on her desk with her elbows, waving one hand. "Sure, sure, Mr. no-fun," she smiled.

Arthur sighed and rushed into his office, sitting down as he heard Chey's sweet voice call Bonnefoy into office number 3. He spun his chair around to pick up his pen and writing pad as he heard the door open and close, creaking quietly as it did so.

He turned to the door, words lost in his throat. Standing, frozen in the doorway, was a blonde man, who looked equally as shocked, pink lips parted slightly. Arthur didn't bother to let awkward seconds float between them, immediately blurting out his first thought.

"Francis?"

The other didn't respond right away, hand still on the doorknob. Francis let out a breath, looking like any minute he was going to drop dead of a heart attack.

Arthur, deciding that silence that made him feel like Francis was going to pull out a knife and stab him, immediately went to fill it, with what, he wasn't sure yet. But Francis beat him to the punch.

"I- I'm sorry, Eliza- sorry," and he pushed down on the doorknob just slightly, almost asking Arthur if he wanted him to leave. Arthur winced at the change of personality since college, he wasn't quite nervous, almost sounded like he just didn't want to be here.

"No, no, it's- it's ok, really, Francis." Arthur let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and momentarily wondered if there was a Guinness world record for 'Most Awkward Re-Connection With Your Ex'. "Just, uh, sit down," Arthur fumbled with his pen a little, "unless you don't want to, I mean," he uncrossed his legs and recrossed them again. "I mean, if you cancel last minute there's a fee," that was a lie, "and if you do leave I'm not sure what I would do for the next 45 minutes," and that was, admittedly, the bare truth.

"Yeah," Francis let out a breathy laugh. He perched himself on the couch across from Arthur, the red fabric feeling more like the rough carpet you find at fast food chains than anything. Francis inhaled, exhaled and looked at his hands resting on his lap with mild interest. Arthur, deciding that he didn't want to overwhelm Francis, waited for him to talk first. Francis was always good at talking, Arthur recalled.

But after about 10 seconds of absolute silence, Arthur decided he'd be the one to break it. "So, uh," Francis looked up from his hands with slightly wide eyes upon hearing Arthur's voice, "I'll just start with procedure, and then we can start the actual talking," he sighed, and then let out a breathless laugh to lighten to mood. He looked up at Francis, but Francis wasn't smiling, he was just staring at him like he was a teacher or something. Arthur quickly coughed into his hand and made his expression serious again. "Anyways, is there a specific reason that you've made an appointment?" he asked, finding he was genuinely curious.

"Um," Francis looked around the room a little, fumbling with his hands slightly as he did so. "Yeah, actually," he laughed, "there's- there's a few things I guess I just never got off my chest," he looked down again, and Arthur wished he would stop that, it made him feel so big compared to Francis, even though Francis was physically taller and wider; he hated it. "And I guess I just needed someone to talk to," Francis breathed.

Arthur shifted a little in his chair, growing slightly uncomfortable at the next question he had to ask. "Uh," he nibbled at the dead skin on his lip a little, "don't take offense to this question, we, uh, it's a requirement that you have to pull up your sleeves," he coughed without opening his mouth upon seeing Francis pursed lips, "Just in case..." he trailed.

"Uh, yeah, yeah of course," Francis mumbled, gently tugging up the sleeves of his sweater. It was a Moschino sweater, Arthur noticed. Apparently some parts of Francis had changed, but not too many. Francis finished rolling them up, presenting his clean wrists to Arthur. Arthur sighed a quiet "good" and leaned back in his chair.

There was a few moments of silence as Arthur scribbled something on a piece of paper, only looking up when he heard Francis suck in a breath to speak. "Arthur," Francis looked down at his hands, again, "I'm sorry, and I really want to say that before we just jump into things." His eyes darted around the room, like he wanted to say something else. "I just, I was stupid, I should have told you when I planning on moving back to France, and I, God, I'm just," he dragged his hand over his nose, covering his mouth, "I was just, I was stupid." Francis closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, still covering his mouth.

Arthur bit the loose skin at his lip, looking down awkwardly. "It's okay, I used to always assume the worst about people," he laughed humorlessly, meeting Francis' eyes. "I guess we both had our flaws," he said quietly, maintaining eye contact. "So when you said you were leaving England I..." He coughed, breaking eye contact, "so just tell me about yourself, you know, favorite TV show-"

"You already know my favorite TV show," Francis laughed gently, but it wasn't the awkward laughs they'd been sharing since Francis had walked in, and Arthur smiled upon noticing this.

"It's been 4 years," Arthur laughed, "and your favorite show is still The Office?" he heard Francis breath in as to interrupt him, but he quickly corrected himself. "But only the American version, because the U.K. version is lame, and the French version's camera work looks like it was done by a group of 13 year olds for a school project," he finished, slightly out of breath. He flashed Francis a small toothy smile, and saw Francis' slightly shocked expression quickly turn into hysterical laughter. Arthur felt his blood go to his cheeks.

"I can't believe you still remember," he giggled.

"Well, you did make me watch it with you," he paused then laughed, remembering when Francis would invite him and several others to his dorm _and_ make a dumb amount of snacks, all just to watch a 30 minute episode of something that didn't even air in England. "And it was, admittedly, a good show," Arthur let out a content sigh, only slightly uncomfortable that him and Francis still got along so well.

"I know," Francis smiled, showing off a line of pearly whites, "I still make my boyfriend watch it with me as soon as I get the episodes," he leaned forward a bit, still smiling.

Arthur's smile faltered a bit at the mention of a boyfriend, but he quickly replaced it with a fake one before Francis could notice. "What's your boyfriend like?" he asked, picking his pen off the floor where he had dropped it.

"Oh," Francis gasped, leaning back a little in the couch, "He's very sweet, his name is Ivan." Francis shifted his eyes a little, "though, he is a little... 'out there', but he still treats me great, nonetheless."

Arthur scribbled something down, if only to look professional. "What do you mean by 'out there'?" he asked, looking slightly confused.

Francis opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a slight knock on the door. "Mr. Kirkland," Francis quickly recognized the sweet voice as the receptionist's, "It's been 25 minutes, and you arrived late, so you only have about 5 minutes left," she hummed a little before letting out a surprised 'oh', like she had remembered what she was originally going to say. "You should use this time to schedule a next appointment, and... stuff," she finished. Arthur heard her turn around, but Francis turned to the door and called out.

"Um, excuse me, Chey?" he called. There was a pause in the footsteps, and then the sound of her walking to the door again. Chey opened the door and stood in the doorway, in a neat dark blue dress that ended right before her knees, 2 white buttons going down the dress where her chest is. "Please don't take offense to this if I'm wrong, but do you by any chance have a girlfriend named Marianne?" he asked uncertainly, one eyebrow raised.

Chey looked confused for a minute, before bursting into a smile and hugging Francis in an awkward position. "Francis!" she laughed, "I haven't seen you in so long!"

Chey cast a glance at Arthur and upon seeing his his awfully confused face, decided to explain why she was hugging his client. "Francis is my girlfriends brother!" she giggled, "it's a small world after all!"

"It really is," Arthur mumbled under his breath.

Chey and Francis, apparently not noticing his remark, broke apart their hug. Francis kissed both of Chey's cheeks and waved as she left the room, hurrying back to her desk.

"Wow," Francis said, as soon as Chey left.

"Yeah." Arthur smiled at Francis, before coughing it away. "Anyways, you can talk to Chey if you want to get a different therapist in the office, since we previously knew each other," he nodded, pursing his lips in an awkward fashion.

"Oh, no," Francis smiled, pushing his hair behind his ear, "you're a great therapist, I feel a lot better then when I originally came in, and we barely talked."

"Oh," Arthur smiled, "thanks, um, than uh, just talk to Chey about making a next appointment with me, I suppose."

"I will," he said sweetly, before sucking in a breath, like he was anxious to say what he wanted to say. "But, uh, I was wondering if I could have your phone number? So we could hang out, and get to know each other, again?" he lowered his head a bit, using slight puppy eyes.

Arthur knew that this would violate a dozen rules, but he immediately whipped out his phone anyways, reading his number out loud to Francis.

"Thanks," Francis said, closing his phone. Quickly, he stood up and walked to the door, waving gently before exiting.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, alone in his office now. "Fuck," he whispered to himself, biting on his pen cap.

**I think ill go with publishing one chapter during the week and two chapters on the weekend. Also, I dont want to sound like someone who begs for reviews, but they would be nice, since I have bad judgment on my writing and no beta...**


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